Chapter Twenty-Two
Cassidy started the day with a faint headache. A little too much champagne. But what a romantic night it had been. Romantic and hot. Her face heated at the memory of what had happened in Beau’s garage. She loved sex with him. No man had ever made her feel the way he did. She had a feeling no man ever would.
It was dangerous to let herself be drawn in any deeper, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.
It was late morning when she showered and dressed in the bedroom next to his. For the first time, it occurred to her today was February third—the anniversary of her mother’s death. With everything that had been happening, somehow the date had slipped her mind.
Despair settled over her. She hated this day. No matter how bright it started out, she couldn’t avoid the sadness that grew hour by hour as her mind filled with memories of the warm, loving woman who had raised her.
For the last six years, on this day, she had gone to the cemetery to put flowers on her mother’s grave. Being there gave her time to remember the way things were when they were a family, the joys they had shared. It gave her time to appreciate all the things her mother had done for her, a way to feel closer to her mom.
She headed for the study. Beau was sitting at his desk when she walked in. His eyes swung to hers and heated. He was thinking about last night and for an instant, she thought of it, too.
But darker memories swept in and her smile slowly faded. Beau must have noticed because the heat dimmed in his eyes and concern replaced it.
“You okay?”
She smoothed a hand over the stretch jeans she had put on with a V-necked sweater. “Not a good day for me, I’m afraid. Six years ago today, my mother died.”
Beau rose from behind his desk and walked toward her. “I’m sorry, baby. I know how that feels.” He wrapped her in his arms, lending his warmth and strength.
“Sarah was sick for most of my senior year in college,” he said, surprising her. “She died in June, right after graduation. It’s been thirteen years, but I still remember how I felt the day she died.”
Cassidy slid her arms around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder. Beau had never brought up Sarah before. She told herself it was a good sign. “Sarah had cancer, right? Just like my mother.”
She could feel the movement as he nodded. “She fought it. We both believed she could beat it, but in the end she lost the battle.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It gets easier as the years pass. Sometimes I forget for weeks at a time. Then it all comes back and it’s like it happened yesterday.”
She hung on to him a little longer, wishing she could make him forget, knowing he never would. Just like she would never forget the six months she had nursed her mother before she’d passed away.
Cassidy let him go. “I always drive out to the cemetery, put some flowers on Mom’s grave. Since my car’s in the shop, I was hoping you might let me borrow the BMW.”
“You want me to go with you?”
She shook her head. “Thanks for the offer, but I’d rather go by myself.”
“I understand that. I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you take the Lamborghini? That might cheer you up a little.”
Her eyes widened. “Really? The cemetery is a ways out of the city. Are you sure it would be okay?”
“You’ve driven it before. The trip’ll do you good.”
She threw her arms around his neck. “I’m driving the Lambo! I’m cheered up just thinking about it.”
He chuckled, eased back, and softly kissed her. “The keys are on the hook in the garage. Go visit your mom. Do whatever else you need to do. I’ve got some catching up to do at the office. I’ll meet you here later.”
“When I get back, we can finish going through those manila folders we found in your dad’s study. There’s a couple we haven’t looked at.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Cassidy hurried back to the bedroom and grabbed her jacket, then left the house in Beau’s Lamborghini. It was hard to stay depressed when you were driving a car that felt like you were flying.
She wondered what her dad would say if he saw it, and made a mental note to call him and her brother Brandon later. Maybe she could Skype Shawn in Afghanistan when she got back to Beau’s house.
She’d only gotten as far as Lemmon Avenue, heading for Uptown, when her phone rang. Careful to keep her eyes on the road, she pulled her cell out of her purse, saw it was Jase, and found a spot to pull over.
“Have you found something?” she asked.
“Maybe. I’m at the office. What time are you coming in?”
“I’m on my way now. I’ll be there in just a few minutes.” She ended the call. She hadn’t reminded Beau she was stopping at the office before she left town. He didn’t like the idea of her meeting with Jase, even though she’d told him there was nothing going on between them. As soon as she was finished, she could drive out to the cemetery.
Jase was sitting at his desk when she walked in. He and Connie were the only ones there, but with the odd hours they all worked, someone else could show up anytime.
Cassidy waved at Connie, who was on the phone, then crossed the room and sat down in the chair next to Jase’s desk. “Tell me you got something.”
“I got something. Not sure it’ll help.” He leaned back in his chair, shoved his boots out in front of him. “I can tell you Vaughn is connected to some very powerful people, but you probably knew that already.”
“It’s not surprising, with the big-money loans he makes. He’s getting the money to make those loans somewhere. What else?”
“His right-hand man is a guy named Clifford Jennings. He’s not on the company payroll. He works directly for Vaughn.”
“That’s news.”
“Jennings doesn’t know squat about the loan business. He handles collections, makes sure the money gets paid back. Usually a threat from Jennings is enough to get it done. If there’s a problem, word on the street is Jennings will do whatever it takes to make his boss happy.”
“Does that include murder?”
“He’s not a killer. He just handles things. He knows who to call to get it done.”
“Senator Reese owned a construction and development company. They were building a big set of apartments in Iron Springs when an arson fire burned the project down. Reese collected the insurance money, which went to pay Vaughn. Do you think Jennings could have arranged the fire?”
“I think he can make just about anything happen.”
“So Vaughn controls Jennings. Any idea who pulls Vaughn’s strings?”
“He uses three or four different people to fund those big loans. I don’t know their names, but they’d be able to exert plenty of pressure.”
“There’s an old saying: ‘He who holds the gold, rules.’”
Jase chuckled.
“There’s a chance Jess Milford found out who arranged the apartment fire,” she said. “Good chance Vaughn was behind it. Milford might have tried to blackmail him, and Vaughn had him killed.”
“If you could get something on Jennings, maybe he’d roll on Vaughn.”
She nodded, thinking the same thing. “It looks like the senator had only paid back part of the money he owed Equity Advance when he was murdered, but I can’t see Vaughn killing him over the debt. Reese recently retired from politics. He still carried plenty of juice with people in Texas, even kept files with information he used to get what he wanted. He had to have something Vaughn could have used.”
“I know the cops are looking at your friend Beau for the murder,” Jase said. “But from what you’ve told me, I think both men were killed by the same guy. No prints, no DNA, both hits quick and deadly. Gotta be a pro, and if it was, could be Vaughn was involved.”
“Sounds about right,” Cassidy said.
“So maybe there’s two different things going on here. Maybe Milford was killed to keep him quiet, but the senator was killed for a completely different reason.”
“Like what?”
Jase grinned. “I got no idea, sweet thing. It’s your job to find out.” His grin slid away. “Be careful, Cassidy. Guys like these play for keeps.”
* * *
Franco Giannetti eased out of his parking space on Blackburn Street, following the flashy metallic-gray sports car. It sure as hell wasn’t hard, not with the careful way the woman was driving. He couldn’t believe her boyfriend had let her borrow his fancy Lamborghini. Damn thing had to be worth a fortune.
He’d been watching Reese’s house since he’d come up with his new plan. Today he’d followed the woman from the house to her office, where he’d made a run at her before. He’d watched her park and go inside, found a spot and settled in to wait.
An hour slipped past. He fidgeted, shifted in the torn vinyl seat, trying to get comfortable. It was chilly in the truck, but when a payoff was involved, Franco could be a patient man.
He turned on the engine, ran the heater to take off the chill, amazed it worked in the old beater truck. All he needed was to catch a break and the job would be done.
He was beginning to get bored when she finally came outside and climbed into the pricey sports car. He followed the vehicle at a safe distance, but no way was she going to spot him, not in the old white Chevy pickup he’d driven out of the junkyard. The way he did business, all the car needed was an engine that would run.
He pulled over when she slowed and parked in front of a flower shop down the street. She ran inside and came back out a few minutes later carrying a pretty yellow bouquet. He followed her again, saw her turn into the parking lot of a four-story brick apartment building and waited while she went inside.
He still hadn’t completely formulated a plan. He was keeping his options open, a technique he preferred. Today might not work, but if he got the chance, he was taking the woman out.
Franco felt a rush of excitement as he leaned back in his seat. This job was right up his alley, a way to make a sizable score all at once. But the challenge, the adrenaline rush of getting away with it . . . well, sometimes it was just downright fun.
* * *
Though Jase had pressed her for the lunch she owed him, Cassidy had put him off, promising she’d make it up to him next week. After leaving the office, she’d stopped at the flower shop, then swung by her place to retrieve some fresh clothes.
She fumbled with the key to her loft apartment, finally got the door open, and walked inside. She’d been gone so long the place smelled musty. She cracked some windows, although it was chilly outdoors, went into the bedroom and packed a rolling duffel, adding a few less conservative, sexier outfits than she’d taken to Pleasant Hill.
Her stomach was growling so she heated a can of chicken noodle soup, popped the top on a Diet Coke, and sat down at the counter in her small galley kitchen.
The apartment had a nice open feeling enhanced by the high ceilings and living-dining combination. Eventually, she’d get around to buying some accent pieces to brighten the plain beige sofa and chairs she had purchased when she’d first moved in.
She finished her lunch and was ready to head for the cemetery, but before she left, she wanted to call her dad. He was retired from the police force, but still worked part-time in the security business. They chatted awhile, which always lifted their spirits on this dismal day.
She phoned Brandon, a cop in New Orleans, but he didn’t pick up, so she left a message. She hoped she could reach Shawn in Afghanistan. She’d try to Skype him when she got back to Beau’s.
It was late afternoon by the time she was in the car, driving toward the small country cemetery outside Kaufman, about forty minutes south of Dallas. The sky had darkened as heavy clouds rolled in, but it hadn’t started raining yet.
The little cemetery occupied a piece of land outside the city limits of the town where her mother had been born, and other members of her family were buried there, too. There was a place for her dad already paid for next to her mom, but she didn’t want to think about that.
It was peaceful as she wandered among the tombstones. Only two other people were in the cemetery and they were standing around a headstone some distance away. She set the flowers on her mother’s grave, stood there awhile, and found herself talking about Beau.
“He’s a terrific guy, Mom. You would really like him. The thing is, he’s in love with someone else, a woman who died a long time ago. Since I deserve a man who’s in love with me, not a dead woman, I don’t think it’s going to work out.”
Just saying the words made her heart pinch. She was already more than half in love with Beau. But talking to her mom seemed to help, so she sat there awhile longer. She hadn’t realized how late it was getting until she noticed the sun dipping below the horizon and it began to rain.
Hurrying to the car, she climbed in and started the powerful Lamborghini engine, settled back and strapped herself into the seat. The sound of the engine made her smile, along with the sweet gesture Beau had made in letting her borrow one of his most prized possessions. Knowing how valuable the car was and how much he loved it, she still couldn’t believe she’d had the nerve to accept his generous gift.
It was raining hard by the time the Lambo rolled through the tall wrought-iron gates enclosing the graveyard. There was another car parked just outside, an old Chevy pickup with WASH ME traced through the dirt on the door. Maybe the rain would give it a long-overdue cleaning.
She wondered who the driver had been visiting, wondered if he had lost a member of his family, too, and felt a twinge of pity.
The pickup lights went on as she drove the Lamborghini along the narrow road down the hill. The truck pulled in behind her. The pavement was slick and the road was curvy, so she was taking it slow.
Too slow, apparently. The old Chevy speeded up behind her, coming up fast in her rearview mirror. She pressed down on the gas, but the road was too twisty to go very fast and no way was she risking a crash in Beau’s expensive car.
She made the first of a series of turns, but the pickup stayed right on her tail.
Idiot. Any trace of pity fled. There was nowhere to pull over, no way to get off the road, and with him so close, no way she could stop. What the hell did he want her to do? She speeded up a little more, but so did he.
She was beginning to get mad. She drove a little faster, then braked for the curve ahead. There were lots of trees, so she needed to be careful, but the pickup didn’t slow, just kept coming, roaring up behind her. She couldn’t believe it when he rammed her bumper hard enough to jolt the car, denting the back for sure.
Oh, God, Beau was going to kill her.
She never should have borrowed it. What in the world had she been thinking? She glanced in the mirror, saw the pickup rushing toward her again. Was he drunk? On drugs? A chill went through her. Or was it something else?
She thought how close she had come to being killed in front of her office. This wasn’t the same vehicle, but if the hit-and-run hadn’t been an accident, this could be another attempt.
Cassidy fought the wheel. Adrenaline poured through her—not the fun kind, the scared kind—and her hands started sweating. If Beau had been driving, the sports car could have handled the speed and the curves, but she wasn’t a race-car driver, and the pavement was wet and slick. She had to go faster, told herself she could do it.
She had two brothers. Brandon had taught her to drive in his souped-up ’66 Chevelle. He and Shawn had goaded her until she’d learned to handle the car to their satisfaction.
As the truck raced up behind her again, she hit the gas and the Lamborghini shot forward as if it had wings. For a moment, she left the pickup behind and satisfaction rolled through her. But there was a sharp curve up ahead that dropped off into a field on one side, and no way could she keep up her speed.
She slowed and the pickup roared up on her tail. He rammed her just as she went into the turn. The rear end fishtailed, she hit the gas to correct the slide, which worked until the car hit a pothole and skidded sideways.
The pickup rammed into the passenger door, sending the Lamborghini careening off the road. The car shot into the air, spun, hit the ground, flipped and rolled, and there was nothing she could do. She clung to the wheel, kept her head down as the sports car landed on its roof and the airbags went off, but the car just kept rolling.
On the third roll, something hit her in the head and she blacked out for a moment, came to as the Lambo righted itself and jarred to a halt. She was dizzy, her mind fuzzy, but the pickup seemed to be gone. She couldn’t see any headlights in the mirror anywhere behind her, but she’d wrecked Beau’s beautiful car.
Cassidy felt the warm trickle of blood running down her forehead and tears filling her eyes. Then the world went black and she felt nothing at all.